


sympathy pains

by shatteredmirrors



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brock views Steve as quote the soldier unquote, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Drabble, Fluff, Internal Conflict, M/M, Sickfic, much to his confusion, steve is sick and it pains brock to see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 11:52:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15840744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredmirrors/pseuds/shatteredmirrors
Summary: in which Brock does his best to do very little about a sick Steve Rogersaka what are summaries





	sympathy pains

 He hated how pathetic the other man looked. How pale and fragile he was. Any other day he would have scoffed at how weak the  _ great  _ Captain America was - would have taken advantage in more ways than one to get his revenge on Nick Fury’s boys

(at least that’s what he told himself). 

Brock wasn’t sure when exactly he and Cap started speaking again, when they started sleeping together, when sex led to spending the night and waking up in each others arms. Which, inevitably lead to the men eating breakfast in separate parts of the living room. Brock would drown out his thoughts in front of the television watching MMA fights, Steve would drown out his thoughts reading the paper and nursing a cup of coffee like the good soldier he was. None wanting to acknowledge their conflicted feelings toward one another.

Now Steve lay curled up on the couch shivering, a fleece blanket draped over his shoulders. The man lay in the fetal position, eyes shut tight and lips pursed into a thin line. Whatever virus he had was certainly taking a toll on him. How he managed to stumble over to Brock’s flat was a mystery but what piqued his interest was why Steve had come to _him_ of all people. 

Perhaps his  _ pal  _ Bucky was out of town but even then wouldn’t he have had a key to his apartment? Maybe Brock's flat was closer to where Steve was originally? 

Perhaps Brock was overthinking things. 

The floorboards creaked as he approached Steve, placing the back of his hand to his forehead only to recoil when he was met with sweat and heat. Biting back a sigh he yanked the blankets from the soldier's body.

No reaction but a weak whine and face buried in his arms. 

“C’mon big guy.” Brock sighed, tucking his arms underneath Steve’s raising him off the couch and onto his feet. He let the sick man lean on him for support as he led him to the bathroom, seating him on the bathroom counter. Steve slumped back against the mirror and shut his eyes once more. 

Brock turned the bathtub faucet deciding a hot bath would do better than cold. After all it would do Steve some good to sweat off his fever. 

Not that he gave one shit. He just wanted the man back to his normal self and out of his house.

_ ~~Brock was a known liar.~~ _

Waiting for the water to rise Brock turned to Steve with his hands on his hips and brow quirked. The man hadn’t moved from his spot, chest rising and falling slowly. 

Wordlessly, Brock lifted Steve’s arms and peeled his sweat stained shirt from his back. His rough hands hovered over the chipped belt buckle, eyes flickering up to Steve’s who stared back at him with an exhausted expression. Dull blue eyes met chocolate brown and the faintest glimmer of consent was all Brock needed before he unbuckled Steve’s belt and helped him slip from his pants. Brock found himself lifting the soldier’s smooth leg pulling the wool sock from his foot, then the other. He glanced at the tub then back at Steve, 

“You’re not gonna be a big boy and take off your own briefs, Captain?” he quipped, taking two steps over to the tub, turning the faucet off and testing the water with his fingers. He glanced over his shoulder and could have sworn he saw a smirk play at Steve’s lips as he slowly slipped from the counter and slipped from his briefs in one swift movement. What was soon to be a smile faded when the colour drained from his face when his body couldn’t handle bending over too quickly.

Quick as a flash he was in Brock’s arms, his blunt fingernails digging into his biceps, “Easy now.” Brock grunted helping the man to the tub, “Don’t fuckin’ drown you hear me?” 

“I’d rather not die in your bathtub.” Steve croaked, gripping Brock’s arm as he slowly put one foot in the tub, wincing at the heat. His chill seemed to escalate as soon as his foot hit warm water, the hair on his arms standing on end. Brock's brows furrowed in feigned disgust at the utter _weakness_ Steve displayed. His gut told him to stay with him while he bathed but he fought against it and waited until Steve was sitting in the bath before he left the room. 

He returned ten minutes later with a towel in hand, Steve still half sitting half lying in the tub. Brock couldn’t tell if the man was uncomfortable or enjoying the heat so he cleared his throat and set the towel on the counter, 

“Soldier?” 

Steve glanced at him through heavy lidded eyes. His bones ached of something mad and he felt as if he had weights tied to his ankles. The expression alone was enough stir something Brock hadn’t felt in a long time. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest unblinking. 

Losing patience he threw the towel over his shoulder and helped Steve out of the tub, wrapping the towel around his waist. 

Steve’s blond hair was plastered to his forehead and he looked relieved to be out of the tub - with legs like jelly he leaned against Brock instantly dampening the man’s shirt. He was exhausted from his trek from the couch to the bath and he wanted nothing more but to lay back on the leather couch and drift into a deep sleep. Instead he was steered in the direction of Brock’s bedroom and guided to his bed.

The mattress dipped as he slumped onto the edge of the bed. He watched curiously as the darker man padded to the closet and rifled through t shirts. Steve began to wonder if all the man wore were combat clothes and t shirts - the majority of Brock’s clothes black and grey - as dreary as his persona. 

Grabbing a pair of soft jogging pants and a burgundy college shirt Brock was back in front of the Captain handing him the articles of clothing, “Don’t be weird about it or nothin’... Just don’t want your sweat stained clothes in my bed.”

“It’s not like that’s the worst stain in your bed.” Steve muttered, biting back a grin at Brock’s deadpan expression. Pretending like he didn’t just hear that he turned to leave when Steve stopped him with a simple, "Thank you." 

Glancing over his shoulder the ex Hydra agent offered a weak smirk, 

“Don’t mention it.”


End file.
